


Did You Ever Hear About The Guy That Got Frozen?

by hipsbrokenhearts



Series: Ever And Evermore [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Flashbacks, Getting Back Together, Heart broken Steve, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Modern Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Is Just Built, Steve Rogers is Not Captain America, Steve is 27, Though The Serum Doesn't Exist, bucky is 28, evermore inspired, happy endings, high school sweethearts au, right where you left me, time jumps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsbrokenhearts/pseuds/hipsbrokenhearts
Summary: Steve and Bucky were high school sweethearts, and Steve thought they’d be together forever. Everything changed when Bucky broke it off and left Steve stranded in the corner of their favorite coffee shop. Now, ten years later, Steve is still stuck in the same spot, waiting for the man who broke his heart to repair it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Ever And Evermore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101731
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first of many evermore inspired stucky fics! (Thanks tay!) I have been so inspired listening to evermore and have had (and envisioned!) so many different fic ideas that I thought I might as well put them to paper. 
> 
> This first fic is my take on ‘right where you left me.’ Enjoy! : )

“I thought I’d find you here,” Nat said as she pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. 

Steve put his pen down, and tried to suppress his eyes from rolling before looking up and meeting Nat’s gaze, but it was a struggle. Steve knew she meant well, but he could hear the pointed edge of her friendly words. It was how she usually operated, saying one thing overtly while what she was truly saying was left to be inferred. Steve found the whole thing exhausting. He knew she did this because she’d often been told she was too harsh, but he thought he’d appreciate it more if she saved all this effort she used tip toeing around his feelings and just came out with what she really wanted to say. 

“Where else would I be?” Steve said, meeting her eyes, and motioning at the table between them. 

Steve was sitting in the corner of his favorite coffee shop, and before Nat had interrupted him, he’d been sipping on coffee and sketching away, which is something he’d been doing here since he was in middle school. At twenty-seven, he was still sitting in the same spot. 

Nat, apparently, had a problem with this routine of his, as she frequently liked to make comments about it. Steve always brushed it off, comfortable with the familiarity his routine provided him. 

“That’s the problem, Steve,” Nat huffed. “You’re always here. You need to get out, go new places, try new things. Not just stay hidden in this corner for the rest of your life.”

“I’m working, Nat,” Steve motioned down to his sketch pad. “Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

Nat rolled her eyes and took a sip of Steve’s coffee. “You might be working right now, but you aren’t just here for work. You're here all the time. I have a better chance of finding you here than at your apartment. You practically live here. I’m surprised they don’t make you pay rent.” 

Steve had actually started thinking about asking Sam, the owner of the shop and one of his closest friends, about if he needed a partner in the business, but he knew better than to tell Nat that. That’d only be proving her point. 

“I like it here,” Steve said, trying valiantly to keep his annoyance from showing. From the look on Nat’s face, he wasn’t successful. 

“You hate it here,” Nat said flatly. 

“I do not!” Steve protested. 

“Yes, you do. That’s why I can’t figure it out, why you’re always here,” Nat said, a puzzled expression dominating her features. 

Steve ran a hand through his blonde hair in an attempt to release some of his agitation, but he quickly realized the only thing it did was make him look even further from put together than he already was. He huffed. “It’s not that complicated, Nat. I like it here. The coffee's good, it’s generally pretty quiet, and it’s got good lighting for my sketches. Add in the fact that I’ve been coming here for so long, it’s just comfortable. It’s like home.” 

Nat nodded, and silence fell between them. Steve was grateful. That’s usually how this went, Nat finding him here, her complaining that he was always here, Steve insisting that he actually likes to be here, and then her dropping it. It was routine, and usually after jumping through all those hoops, Steve was able to have a normal conversation with his best friend. 

While he waited Nat out, Steve picked up his pen again. Nat, like Steve, appreciated the calmness silence provided, so it wasn’t rare for them to sit in silence for long beats of time. Steve was used to this too by now, so he let Nat watch him work, as he began working on the outline of his newest project. It’s something he wouldn’t allow if it was anyone else, as he usually didn’t like for anyone to see his work until it was finished, but for Nat he made an exception. He knew she liked to see the process. 

“You’re just…” Nat began softly, “Frozen. Here. In this place.”

Steve put down his pen, and met Nat’s gaze.

“It kills me to see you like this,” Nat said sincerely, while her emerald eyes pleaded with Steve. 

Steve suppressed a groan and infused his voice with as much calmness as he could muster. 

“Nat, I know you mean well, but I’m tired of this conversation. We’ve been over it thousands of times already. I like it here, really. Now, can we please just drop it?” Steve paused then, struggling to find another topic to focus on, but finally went with the easiest thing he could think of. “How's Clint doing?” 

“No.” Nat said plainly, ignoring his inquiry about Clint all together. “I’m not going to drop it anymore. I don’t know why you hang around this place when it’s a constant reminder of painful memories that you’d be better off forgetting.” 

“Nat,” Steve warned.

“Don’t ‘Nat’ me. I’m serious, Steve. This can’t possibly be healthy. Walking into this place everyday and being reminded of the worst day of your life.” 

Steve’s eyes met his sketch pad on the table, and, as his fingers traced his sketch, he said, “I shouldn’t have told you about that.” 

Instantly, Nat was shaking her head in disagreement, her fierce red hair flying. 

“Yes, you should have, and I’m glad you did. But knowing what you’ve told me, I can’t understand you stepping foot in here ever again, much less being here every day.” 

Steve didn’t think he had it in him to go through this whole thing again with her today, but he trudged on, ready to defend himself again despite it. 

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I like being here. It’s as simple as that. Yes, things happened in the past, but that’s in the past.” 

Laughter burst forth from Nat’s mouth, but it was without any hint of humor. Steve flinched at the sound of it. 

“Steve, you are reliving the past every day. Stop with the whole ‘the past is the past’ bull shit because we both know that’s not true.” 

Steve, stung by the honesty of her words, knew he was in no position to deny them, so he sat in stunned silence. 

Nat took a deep breath and when she began again it was in a softer tone. “Steve, you need to move on. It’s been years, and I just hate seeing you like this.”

Steve, having found his voice, was just short of begging when he told her, “Just leave it alone.”

“No, I won’t just leave it alone anymore,” Nat said, growing frustrated. Her long black nails thrummed against the table, the speed of the movement increasing in time with her rising agitation. “You know, I expected you to find some perspective from all of this, after all of this time, but instead you’ve just sat here and stared, waiting for him to come back. It’s not going to-”

“Stop it,” Steve said, forcefully. He was done with this conversation.

Nat, apparently, wasn’t which was why the next words out of her mouth were the last ones Steve wanted to hear. 

“Barnes’-”

“Don’t,” Steve said, interrupting her again. “Don’t say his name.” 

“The past is the past, huh?” Nat said, raising her brows. Steve refused to acknowledge the question, so Nat pointed at him and continued on. “You’re frozen in time, Steve. Time’s moved on -we all have- but you’re still here, sitting here in this spot, living in this fantasy that you’re still eighteen.” 

Steve could feel tears prick his eyes, but he willed them to stop before falling. He knew Nat was right, and yet, he didn’t want to admit the truth to her, that he was still hurt over something that happened a decade ago and that kept him coming back to this shop almost every day hoping that one day Bucky would be back again for him. 

“Nat, stop.”

“No, Steve. I won’t stop. Breakups happen all the time, you don’t have to lose it.” 

The second the words left her mouth, Steve knew that Nat regretted them. She’d instantly known she’d gone too far. Her eyes grew wide and her features softened and drew down before her eyes fell to the table. 

Steve knew that Nat regretted the words, yet they still hurt all the same. Shame burned through him. He knew it wasn’t normal to be so hung up on your first love, but he couldn’t move on. Bucky was more than just his high school sweetheart, he was the man Steve had thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. 

“Steve,” Nat said, his name a noise of defeat. “I’m not trying to be mean, really, I’m not. But, you have to face this.” Nat reached over and laced their fingers together, pleading with him. “Maybe if you talked about it or, you know, I could tell you about him. Maybe that would help you, knowing how he is now.” 

“No,” Steve said, untangling their hands and dismissing the idea. “I don’t want to hear about how he’s got a wife out there, kids and Christmases. I like being unaware. The version I have of him from my memory is mine. I don’t need to know the rest.” 

“But it might help, just hear me out,” Nat implored. 

“He’s the one who left,” Steve said, anger bleeding into his words, unable to hold back anymore. “Just walked away without a single glance back. I don’t need to know anything more.” 

“Exactly, _he’s_ the one who walked away. You don’t owe him anything. You can let him go. Move on.” 

“I have moved on. I’ve let it go.”

Nat looked at him, really looked at him, before shaking her head, the act a dismissal if Steve's ever seen one.

“Then why are you still sitting here in the same corner, dust collecting in your hair, waiting for him?” 

“I,” Steve started and stopped. 

He stared across the table at Nat, finally, it seemed, out of answers. He couldn’t deny it anymore. Not to himself, and not to her. 

Steve knew that lots of things could happen in the span of a decade. That every day people were breaking up, while others were meeting for the first time. Steve knew personally how so many of his friends were getting married, falling in love, having kids. He marveled at the idea of how every day was filled with so much beauty and so much pain, with people Steve didn’t even know, strangers really, being born and getting buried all the time, every minute. 

But, even knowing how the world was turning and how things were in constant change, Steve knew that he himself was not. He knew that he should’ve moved on by now, or really, a long time ago, but he couldn’t. Nothing could change how he felt about Bucky, especially something as inconsequential as time. So, he was right where Bucky left him, sitting in the corner of the coffee shop he haunts. 

Steve told Nat none of that, and instead switched tactics. “I cause no harm by being here. I mind my business. I’m not hurting anyone.” 

Resigned, Nat said, “You’re hurting yourself, Steve, by just being here, and I don’t know how to make you see that. Are you going to be stuck here forever?”

Steve instinctively knew he would be, but he also knew that he couldn’t tell her that. Bucky had left him here, and Steve had no choice but to stay here forever, in the last place they were together. It was out of his hands.

Nat waited patiently for Steve’s answer, but when it didn’t come, she just shook her head and got up. Before she left, she looked at Steve one last time and told him, “What a sad sight.”

Then she left him, sitting cross-legged right where Bucky’d left him all those years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to outrun the past he's haunted by.

“Hey! Steve, right?”

At the greeting, Steve froze in his seat, unable to know whether he should believe his ears. Because the voice that just greeted him, he would have recognized anywhere. He’d just never had it directed at him before.

James was the new devastatingly gorgeous guy at their high school that everyone, even the teachers, was obsessed with. Steve didn’t blame them. How could he when he was just as obsessed as the rest of them? 

Steve remembered the first day he’d heard that voice of his, it was in his third period world history class, and at the sound of it, Steve’s head had whipped around so fast he’d thought it was just about to roll off. James had been standing at the front of the classroom and introducing himself. He was saying the usual, that he was new and had just moved here from somewhere in middle America, one of those states that started with an ‘I’ Steve thought, but didn’t really recall. 

Steve, foolishly, had instantly felt bad for him. He’d thought that being the new guy when they were a few weeks into the second semester of sophomore year had to suck, and Steve had made a promise to himself to make an effort and be James’ friend so that he didn’t end up friendless. 

Steve hadn’t needed to worry. 

By lunch bell of James’ first day, James already had more friends at the school than Steve did. Steve wasn’t all that surprised, really, since Steve had only a few friends. Well, really only two friends, but Steve really should have known better. Because, Steve hadn’t been the only one to notice James, everyone had. He was stunning, and Steve didn’t use that word lightly. His dark brown hair was long but tied back from his face in a messy bun, and inviting blue-gray eyes had melted the hearts of everyone he had interacted with. Steve himself had nearly reached for his inhaler when James had walked by him that first day, to the back of the room to the only empty desk. Steve had gotten an eyeful of James’ lean muscular body dressed in all black and the scuffed combat boots he wore. 

He’d been more than a little captivating. But, that had been a few weeks ago, and, although they shared that one class, their paths didn’t cross otherwise. James had already been inducted into the popular crowd and was destined to play spring sports, while Steve stuck with Peggy in their after school art classes and kept his lanky weak body as far away as possible from any court or field. 

James cleared his throat. “Umm, Steve? Yeah?”

Steve shook himself and looked up, meeting James’ ocean eyes. 

“Yeah,” Steve choked out. He cleared his throat before saying, “Steve is me.” Steve cringed the second the words left his lips, but he kept his eyes on James, unable to draw in on himself when met with someone just so beautiful. 

James laughed softly, but not rudely, and motioned to the seat in front of Steve. Steve nodded, giving James permission to sit. James pulled out the chair and sat across from Steve, placing his coffee mug between them on the table. Steve let his hands fall on top of his sketchbook between them, casually hiding his work without drawing attention to it. It’s not that he distrusted James, he just didn’t share his work with strangers. His art was personal. 

“Bucky,” James said pointing to himself. Steve’s eyebrows knit in confusion. 

“I thought your name was James?” Steve said, puzzled. 

“Oh, it is, but my friends call me Bucky,” James, no, _Bucky_ said. 

Bucky. Steve could call him that because they were _friends._

“Bucky it is then,” Steve said, liking the taste of it in his mouth. He wanted to repeat it over and over, but knew he’d come off as an absolute freak, so he restrained himself. Besides, he could repeat it as many times as he liked in the privacy of his room later.

Bucky just sat there smiling at Steve, and Steve didn’t really know what to do with that. People didn’t just sit around and have coffee with Steve. That had never happened, like ever. 

“Something I can help you with, Bucky?” Steve asked, not able to bear the silence between them any longer. He readjusted his crossed legs and brought his own coffee mug to his lips then.

“Yeah, actually,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair. He rubbed the back of his neck somewhat nervously before continuing. “We’re in the same history class,” Bucky told him. 

Steve nodded, silently agreeing and motioning for him to continue. Steve already knew they were in the same class, of course, but he hadn’t realized Bucky had ever noticed his existence. 

“Well,” Bucky drew out the word, as he played with the sleeves of his black hoodie. “I was hoping you could help me.”

“Me?” Steve asked, surprised.

“Yeah.” A blush spread along the tops of Bucky’s cheeks. It made him even more unbearably attractive, Steve thought. “My old school wasn’t nearly as ahead as we are right now in history. We hadn’t even gotten to The Great War. I was kinda hoping I’d be able to play basketball or run track, but if I don’t get my grades up there’s no point of even trying out. And…” Bucky’s fingers skated around the edge of his coffee mug absently. 

“And?” Steve prompted. He wasn’t sure how he was going to help Bucky with sports. With Steve’s asthma and everything else his body was fighting, he’d never even dribbled a basketball.

“And,” Bucky said, taking a deep breath. “I was hoping you could tutor me. In history. You always know the answers when you’re called on and I know you aced the last test. I could pay you, you know, for your help?” Bucky suggested, before continuing in a rush of rambles. “It would mean a lot to me if you could help and then I couldplayanditwouldjustbegreatsoyoudonthavetoifyoudontwanttobutyeah.” 

Bucky’s eyes pleaded with him and Steve got lost in their waves. 

“I,” Steve said. He knew he must be beat red. Bucky had just said he _needed_ Steve. Needed _him._ And, even more ludicrous, he’d proposed the idea of _paying_ Steve to tutor him. Steve felt like he should be paying Bucky just to be in his presence. Steve didn’t know which god to pray to for getting so lucky, but he sent out a silent thanks as his eyes traced Bucky’s sinful full lips. 

“I’d love to,” Steve told him, sincerely. 

“Really?” Bucky asked, so hopeful it made Steve’s heart hurt. 

“Yeah, of course. When did you want to start? The test is next week,” Steve reminded him.

Bucky's laughter was stiff and awkward, and he looked a mixture of anxious and embarrassed when he said, “I thought we might be able to right now. If I’m interrupting something just tell me and I’ll go but… I’ve seen you here before. A lot, actually. Not in a stalker way,” Bucky was quick to add. “But, I, yeah. And I thought maybe you’d be down to help, but, you know, didn’t want to get my hopes up.” Bucky shrugged one of his shoulders and took a sip of his coffee. 

Steve looked down at his sketchbook. He’d been working on a new project that he’d been dying to start for days, but as much as he longed to continue his work, he couldn’t pass up the chance to help Bucky. Steve already knew, after mere minutes of officially meeting him, that he’d do anything for Bucky. 

“Do you have the textbook with you?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, sheepishly pulling it from his tattered studded backpack. 

“I don’t mind starting now then,” Steve told him with a smile, putting his sketchbook away in his messenger bag.

“Tell me, what do you already know about World War II?” Steve asked. 

“Well… We were part of the good side, fighting the Nazis,” Bucky said with mild confidence. 

“First thing to know, Buck, is there are no good sides in war, but, yes, by textbook standards, America was on the right side of things…”

***

“That bad, huh?” Sam said, as they made their way through Central Park. On the days Sam didn’t have to open Falcon, Sam joined Steve on his morning run. 

“What?” Steve said, yanking out one of his air pods. They usually saved their morning catch up until they made it to the shop, but, apparently, Sam had something on his mind that couldn’t wait. 

“What’s going on, Steve?” Sam asked, slowing to a stop next to him. A pack of stroller moms side eyed them for their sudden stop, but Steve paid them no mind. 

“Nothing’s going on, Sam. What are you even talking about?” Steve asked.

“I’m talking about that face you’ve been sporting all morning. You look like you’re about to punch someone’s lights out.” 

Steve's lips twisted into a frown at Sam’s words. He’d woken up in a mood after dreaming about Bucky again. It’d been the first time they’d met at the shop, this time. Laying in bed, lost in the fog of the first time he’d met Bucky, he’d been torn between elation and exhaustion. His recurring dreams of the past were something he both longed for and dreaded. It was always nice to be by Bucky’s side again, even if it was only in his head, but the dreams just made waking up alone even more painful. 

Steve gave Sam a grin and said, “I’m fine.” Steve turned, like he was about to start running again, but Sam held him back. 

“Ugh, I hate when you do that. Stop with the fake smiles. Is this about what happened yesterday at the shop? With Natasha?” Sam added, clarifying. 

“No,” Steve said, waving the idea away. “She already texted me to apologize. You know how she gets. Once she gets an idea in her head, she can’t let it go.” 

“Still on about how Falcon isn’t good for you?” Sam asked, starting to walk again.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “We’ve been over it so many times I don’t know why she even tries anymore.” 

“You know, maybe Natasha is right, Steve,” Sam mused. 

“What? _You_ agree with her?” 

“Hey now, don’t be like that. As a small business owner, I’d never turn away such a loyal customer. But, as a friend, I’m worried.”

Steve grunted. 

“I’m just saying,” Sam continued on, “I wouldn’t want to lose my favorite customer, but she kind of has a point.” 

“Here we go,” Steve muttered. If he could get through a day without his friends trying to dictate his life it’d be a miracle. 

“You know, I’ve never met him,” Sam said, being considerate enough of Steve’s feelings to not use his name, which Steve appreciated. “Well, not really anyway. But, I was there the night it happened. Helped you clean up the broken glass and the spilt coffee, and I was there for the days after it. No man or woman or anyone on this God forsaken green Earth is worth the pain you went through in those weeks afterward.” 

Steve shook his head, wanting to deny it all, but knowing that he couldn’t. Sam _had_ been there. Sam’s mother had been the owner of the place when Steve had first started going there, as it has been in Sam’s family for generations. She had retired though, during Steve’s first semester of college, and Sam had taken over then. Sam was five years older than Steve, which meant that when Steve was coming in as a teenager with Bucky, Sam was in college, much too cool to be hanging around the shop. Because of that, he’d never met Bucky, but had seen him the night he’d ended things with Steve. 

“I’ve never seen anyone so miserable, Steve.” Sam shook his head. “Right now, you have that same abandoned hurt look on your face like he just walked away.” 

“I do not,” Steve denied.

“And,” Sam said, hold up a hand for Steve to stop. “If my shop is making you miserable and reminding you of that dumb fuck than you should leave without a glance back at the old Falcon Coffee & Co. You don’t owe her or me anything, Steve.” 

“Sam,” Steve groaned. “I appreciate your concern, really, I do. But, we’ve been over this. I love the shop. It’s where I do all my best work. Yes, something unfortunate happened there, but it’s also home to some of the best memories I’ve got. He’s in the past, and as soon as you and Nat realize that, you’ll be able to drop this whole thing.” 

Steve didn’t mention that his past with Bucky was the delusion he lived in presently and would still as time moved into the future, but he figured that was for the best. 

“Then why the face this morning?” Sam asked. 

“I,” Steve began but stopped. Steve desperately wanted to tell Sam, and Nat, that never returning to the Falcon would be pointless, because the ghost of Bucky followed him everywhere, even his dreams. He didn’t see the point of abandoning the coffee shop he’d been going to even before Bucky had rolled into town and moved into his life. He might as well stay in the place that reminded him of all the good times as well. 

“Just a bad dream, Sam,” Steve told him, before breaking back into a run.


End file.
